


The Isolated Hero

by Cur



Series: I’m Bullying Wild RIP [1]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Amnesia, Hurt/Comfort, I love him, Survivor’s Guilt, Trauma Recovery, eventually maybe, mostly guilt, mute wild!!!!, self harm thoughts? i guess, wild baby i am SO sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cur/pseuds/Cur
Summary: In Wild’s Hyrule, the group comes across some ruins after a long day. Wild goes to explore, and uncovers a forgotten memory.
Series: I’m Bullying Wild RIP [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767601
Comments: 9
Kudos: 208





	1. Sister, Sister

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this first chapter is literally JUST wild and is really short, but i hope to do a whole group for the second chapter. hopefully this will expand to a series, as i love these stupid idiot heroes and i have a LOT of feelings about botw. hope you guys enjoy! do be cautious, as wild is a bit self destructive. this is also my first ever writing for any link, especially that of the linked universe! i’m inspired by all other writers on here and of course the lovely person who came up with this universe! hope yall enjoy

More ruins. Wild should’ve figured as much. He could tell that the rest of the Links weren’t too eager when they landed in his Hyrule, but he himself wasn’t exactly put at ease. In a land that should be home, the 117 year old found himself on edge. Every location felt as though memories were buried underneath it — but no matter how deeply Wild frowned, nothing came unearthed. Even with the kingdom freed of Calamity, something was missing, leaving him with a sinking feeling of despair. However, such a feeling isn’t exactly rare for the young hero. He pulls his hood over his head as they step into the totaled land, and buries his feelings with his shattered memories.

“Goddess,” Legend mutters. He tries to keep a tough edge to his voice, but it comes off as unnerved as the rest of them likely felt. “Your Ganon sure went fuckin’ batshit.” Wild scoffs, but an ache clenches his heart anyway. “Should we set up camp here, boss?”

Everyone’s head turns to Time. The sun had begun to sink into the grassy hills, leaving the sky warm and orange — but it’d become cold and dark rather quickly. Time nods. “Good idea. There doesn’t appear to be enemies nearby, but Warriors and I will scout the area. Sky, you got the first watch.” The Links nod their heads in approval to the plan, much to Time’s relief. “Good. Wild, do you need anything for making dinner?”

Wild considers the question and pulls out his slate to mull over his items. He had quite a bit of food left, but he knows this area is usually flushed with supplies. They could use some, especially if the black blooded creature attacks kept up their pace. ‘I’ll go hunting,’ he offers through signing. Time bobs his head in acknowledgement. Before he can bark out more commands, Wild hastily finishes off his thought. ‘It’s safe enough for just me. I’ll go alone.’ Naturally, Time squints suspiciously at him, but there isn’t much time to object. The sun was getting lower and lower.

“Fine,” he relents. “Four, Wind, and Twi can set up camp. Maybe check around for some loot. Legend, why don’t you help us scout?” The three listed weren’t exactly looters by any meaning of the word, so Wild makes a mental note to look around once it’s his shift. Other than that, he’s mostly eager for the alone time

of hunting and gathering.

The group breaks off, and Wild promptly changes into his Sheikah stealth outfit. Around the group, he didn’t often change outfits anymore for the sake of identity, so it feels nice for some momentary solitude to make his own choices. He loved his “brothers”, but they often became relentless with their scoldings and lectures. Wild isn’t the best at communication beyond not being able to speak, and he was a bit of an alleged moron in battle. It seems, out of everyone (besides maybe Wind), he’s the most reckless out of all of them. Still, he tends to get the job done. _Tends_ to. Failure happened to be a large, clunky part of his legacy, and no amount of victories could ever scrub that away. So what if he gets hurt? _Then he feels._ Sometimes… sometimes reality felt…. Sometimes Wild didn’t have the _best_ grip on reality. It was easy to feel as if it were all fake and he were still dead. It was easy to hear the laughter of his friends and feel a hollowness inside of him because _something was missing_. That feeling never seems to go away. Happy moments feel like tainted mirages of lies, and the terrifying ones keep him alive and validate him. They’ve picked up on this behavior, but he doesn’t exactly allow room for questioning.

Wild’s picked up a few Hyrulian herbs, blue nightshades, and even some Silent Princesses. That’ll do to help make some extra meals, but he could use some meat. He creeps through the trees until he sees a boar standing still. The hero carefully grabs an arrow from his quiver and pulls out his last royal bow. He aims and draws back the string, inhales calmly, and releases the arrow. It hits the boar with a _thud_ , and the animal promptly drops. Delighted, Wild collects his prize and takes the arrow back.

_Link._

The smile on his face evaporates. _That’s new._ His only experience of a random voice in his head was of Zelda — well, and the Champions. This voice, however, is new… and yet so familiar. There it is again. Failure. He frowns and tries to pull and cling onto the gentle tone on his name, but he can’t remember. _He can’t remember._

Link stands up from his squatting position and surges forward. _Link._ It becomes louder, and just as his feet land on the dirt road, his heart sears in pain — with grief, with regret. The blond stills and keeps his eyes on the ruins of an old house. The world fades around him and, sharply, a memory comes.

“Link!”

A little blonde girl jumps up and down outside of a nice, big house. “You’re home!” she exclaims gleefully. “Papa told me you kicked _butt_ today at the academy!” Her hair is drawn back into pigtails, albeit a strand of curled hair bounces in her face. She holds out a ragged doll with two button eyes. “Mom’s making a celebratory dinner. Pop said if you keep kicking butt, we’ll eat at the castle!” Her voice becomes _very_ shrill. “Isn’t that great, Linny? We’ll be like princesses!” She spins around unsuccessfully and lands on her rear. Link moves forward in worry, but she bursts out laughing. Just a smile begins to tug at the ends of his lips, the memory fades away, and the laughter echoes and echoes until it’s nothing at all.

Wild doesn’t move. He continues to stare at the house, soaking in the memory. He had had a sister. Carefully, he pulls out the Sheikah Slate and snaps a picture of the ruins of his old home. The sun had left the sky entirely, which prompts his wants to return to camp, but he continues forward and digs through the ruins, desperate to find something — _anything_ . For Goddess’ sake, he was sitting in what used to be his _home_ and he felt nothing but wet rage for not being able to remember. _Why can’t he remember?!_ The boy uselessly opens his mouth as if to scream, but no noise comes out. He grabs at his throat — his _useless_ throat — and sinks to the ground and curls into himself. _Why can’t he remember? What was his sister’s name? What did his parents look like? What happened to them?_

Link dares to uncurl himself some and reaches for burn wood eroding on the dirt. The guardians had destroyed his home. He can imagine his father — a knight, as told by Zelda in her diary — trying to fight them off and brutally dying. The eyes glow and blast through his mother protecting his sister, and then—

He swallows harshly. She probably died as painfully as he had, yet she had believed — she had believed that her big brother was going to save her. To protect her.

Link slams his fist into the dirt, and again, and again, _and again._ No feeling comes beyond his hurt. The pain that came as a faint ache in his hand is certainly no match for the heat that burns through him and that prompts burning tears to drip down his cheeks.

This is all he could ever hope to find in his Hyrule: _ghosts._

And he hates it. He hates it so much he wishes Calamity had won and destroyed _everyone_ and _everything_ . He wishes Calamity would’ve destroyed him. If his sister died… if his _friends_ died… why should he live? He should’ve succeeded in the first damned place. The rest of the Links had. Wild had failed, leaving a vast world dripping with despair and reeking of death.

Eventually, he gathers himself and changes back to his usual blue tunic and dark hood. He keeps it on his head — something that had become a bit of a rarer occurrence — and makes his way towards the smoke that flew up into the air. For now, at least, he had a home with his brothers — and he wouldn’t fail them. He couldn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A voice calls to Wild. The black blooded enemies return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me SO LONG and its so strange. i got the idea while doing some sketches at 4 am so i have no idea how terrible is really is. also, i feel i should mention that in this fic, wild is more of his botw self and less of his lu self — at least for now as he continues to adjust to the group. i just have more muse for botw right now if u didnt notice from this being wild centric skdjsnd anyway! enjoy :)

Wild’s donned his Snowquill attire to fight off the freezing temperature, but the rest of the group remained in their usual outfits, shivering from the bitterly cold winds. It’s strange to see the newest member seemingly so put together in his outfit, his hair tightly pulled back and, well,  _ contained _ . Naturally, snow falls, which doesn’t excite any of them when climbing the mountain. “I can’t wait to get out of this Hyrule,” Legend mumbles. Hyrule harshly nudges him, but Wild can’t help but to agree. They’ve been stuck in his Hyrule for a week now, and nothing that all that interesting has happened. Mostly, they’ve been gathering supplies, talking with civilians, and exploring the vast world. They left Rito village a while ago, asking around for any hints of black blooded creatures or other peculiar sightings. The most they got was a rumor of growing monster sizes in the mountain, and, having nothing better to do, the gang decided to check it out.

‘K-h-e-e-l described this part of the mountain,’ Wild signs once they reach a flatter surface. They’re not too far from Hebra Tower, and even closer to a cliff leading into a canyon. ‘We should s-p-l-i-t up. There’s lots of area.’ His sign is certainly rusty, but he’s lucky the group started to pick up on Hyrulian sign language. Communication prior to that had been pretty much a pain in the ass. Before his death, Wild had barely spoken, but he tries to do so more now that he’s practically a new person. Still, his words clipped and rasp, so he tends to depend on signing unless urgent.

Naturally, Time isn’t too pleased with the idea.  To be fair, Wild  _ did  _ have some pretty bad ideas, especially since he got used to recklessness and being alone. The rest of the group hadn’t traveled alone in a Hyrule that had been obliterated, so they often struggled to sympathize. Hyrule and Wild got along pretty well considering their similarities, and Twilight shared his… beastly secret with Wild, which created a strong bond as well. Wind and Wild were equally stupid. Warriors seemed to understand his upbringing the most, and their knighthood prompted many conversations. Of course, he got along with the rest of the group just fine, but it seemed they were more wary of him than most -- especially Legend and Time. Being the leader, Time seemed to want to bond with Wild, but it’s hard for either of them to open up which led to dead ends in conversations. It didn’t help that Wild always wanted to do his own thing while Time was desperately trying to lead. “No,” Time decides. “We stay together. No one needs to get lost in this giantatic mountain. Keep leading.”

Surprisingly, no one protests. The sun had set long ago, and it became apparent everyone is too exhausted to argue. Wild’s not one to get weary during travel, but it’s clear his companions are. “Maybe we set up camp here. We’ll need our bearings and rest to fight off these guys. I’ll take the first watch.” Again, no one argues, but a few nod in protest. A fire was lit and soon everyone curled up in their feathered blankets borrowed from the Ritos.

Without the chaos of his friends, the night is quiet. Wild sighs into the cold, and his breath is foggy and visible. He draws his Royal Broadsword just as the ground shakes and some skeletons appear. Goddess, they almost have a schedule. Wild lunges and cuts through them and pierces the remaining heads -- all without startling anyone awake. This time, he pants into the cold, each breath like puffs of smoke. Tucking his sword away, he resumes his post. His sapphire eyes move up to stare at the starry sky as snow drifts down from it. He dares to close his eyes.

_ You have failed….  _

Jumping up, his eyes quickly flash open and he looks around for the source of the voice. If anything, it feels like he’s surrounded by it and it’s echoing against cavern walls.

.. _ but you know that well, don’t you? Your scars are dishonorable and remind you eternally of your shortcomings. The others may bear scars, but they haven’t  _ **_failed._ ** _ Not like you. If they knew the full truth, they wouldn’t want you. Why would anyone? _

The words admittedly sting and cause his heart to race, but he makes no effort to counter them. There must be a point.

You  _ don’t even know your full truth, do you? All of this time and you still haven’t recovered all of your memories. You know little of your family, and perhaps less of yourself. The captain -- your father who raised you as a soldier and nothing more. This path isn’t meant for you, is it? You were  _ **_forced,_ ** _ not chosen -- not like the rest of them. Oh, but what does your courage matter? You know nothing of yourself. _

  
  


_ I can help you. I can restore your memories, if you so choose. Soon, you will be attacked. During the attack, leave. Go to the Forgotten Temple and overcome the Guardians once again and pray to the Goddess. Go alone, and tell no one. This will be your  _ **_only_ ** _ opportunity. _

His hand goes to touch his scarred flesh, and he stands there silently. His memories. They-- he could get his memories back. The problem is, he’d have to leave the group behind, and they tended to dislike his disappearance. What choice did he have, though? His only chance of remembering his family… Goddess, it’s incredibly selfish, but _what choice did he have?_ The voice’s musings seemed strangely sympathetic, but the cruelty that had been apparent was well deserved. All memories of Zelda and him -- alone -- had come back, but nothing of the rest of his life. It felt as though his past life had been a better, more dedicated hero. Without his memories and that same drive, it’s hard to not feel like a fraud.

The ground rumbles, and the snow beneath Wild’s feet begins to melt. The others wake up, startled, but he doesn’t bother to acknowledge them. He selects his Great Flameblade from his slate, and doesn’t bother with a shield considering its weight requires two hands. “Lizalfos,” Warriors announces as the lizard-like creatures appear. Strangely, all of the colors are there -- ranging from green to gold. Without waiting for the first strike, Wild lunges and swings his sword with a low grunt. It slams into two of them, and the Ice Lizalfos disappears into a black mist. Yeah, these were their guys, alright. He stumbles some and lands ungracefully on his foot and skids back. The rest of the group attacks, and like before, the darkest one jumps and dodges over their attacks. Wild considers his slate. If there were any time to leave and chase his memories… The fight takes his attention away as more of their enemies appear. No. He won’t abandon them for himself. Wild begins to lunge again, but the dark Lizalfos tightly grips his shoulder and shoves him harshly backwards so he lands on his back. Sweat that’s startlingly warm drips down his forehead as he wrestles with it, his spare hand trying and failing to recover his blade.

_ You will go. _

Wild groans as a claw wraps around his throat tightly. The red eyes seem to glow with demand.  _ You will go.  _ Obviously it’s a trap. This foe had been the reason Hylia kept throwing them all around, and thus could absolutely not be trusted. So why is he hesitating? Suddenly, the Black Lizalfos is shoved off of him, and when he looks up, he sees Twilight staring down at him, panicked. “Are you alright? Your throat--” Wild gently touches it and feels bruising and the warmth of his own blood. Dazed, he sits up and stares ahead blankly. The army seems to only grow. Could it be happening because of his reluctance?

Twilight helps him up and asks more questions that the ringing in his head blocks out. He has to go. As the other starts to notice the battle, Wild presses a fist to his chest and moves it in a circular motion: ‘I’m sorry’.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He starts to reach for his slate instead of answering, but he freezes once he notices -- 

The Lizalfos attempts to attack again, but Wild shoves Twilight out of the way, takes his sword, and impales it into its belly. Black blood bursts out, and it  _ burns.  _ The hero silently gasps as the dying monster grabs him by the collar and pulls him in just before slipping off the cliff. Naturally, Wild falls with it, yelling out as he does.

“ _ No! _ ” Twilight howls, overcoming the sounds of the clanging blades. He whirls around on his enemies. “I’m going after him!” Time sends him a quick glance with a frown.

“Go. We’ll be fine,” Warriors answers quickly. “Hyrule, think you can shine some magic on the situation? Sky—” Sky gets the hint and raises the Master Sword to the sky. Light fills the area around them, but Twilight doesn’t stick around to watch. Instead, he transforms into a Wolf and disappears into the shadows.

…

  
  


Eventually Wild manages to shake the Lizalfos off and cruise away to the grounds of Tanagar Canyon near the entrance of the Forgotten Temple. It takes him a moment to catch up on his breath, but he doesn’t indulge the moment for too long. Soon he’s climbing up the building and slipping through the open area. Defeating all of the Guardians sounds like a  _ pain _ . Sure, he’s done it before, but having the option of running away screaming always reassured him. Maybe this is his test — to prove he’s still a hero and is worthy of his memories and past life. Of  _ course  _ it’s a test, but he wonders if it’s to try to get him killed or not. Why did the black blooded Lizalfos seem to insist on the voice’s message? Who  _ was  _ the voice? It was older and at least sounded feminine. They spoke carefully and had just enough emotions to set Wild on edge.

He changes into his ancient armor and equips the matching equipment including the bladesaw. As he steps in, three red lights hit him. He’s quick to draw his bow and hit the awakened foes with normal arrows in the eyes. As they struggle, he lands on the pillar on the left of him and swings through the Guardian until it shudders and explodes. Lights resume training on him, but repeats the movements until everything in the first room is defeated and he’s collected the remains.

The next room is trickier. He misses a few times and struggles to hide behind things to avoid attacks, and thus ends up on the ground with blistering pain in his side about three different times. With the help of Daruk’s protection and Urbosa’s fury, he overcomes them too and walks into the shrine room with the looming goddess statue. Wild exhales uneasily.

“Here,” he declares raspily. “What do- why am I here?” The words come out uncertainly and are clipped with unfamiliarity. No verbal response comes, but it’s impossible to miss the glowing light coming at the feet of the statue. Almost transfixed, Wild approaches it and notices a doll made of straw laying limply there. It’s familiar. He grabs it, and, immediately, an electric shock goes through his body. He groans loudly and drops to his knee immediately, but he keeps his grip on it.

_ This won’t be pleasant, but should you have the determination, you shall prevail. _

His eyes lull in the back of his head as the pain only heightens. It reaches its peak and he gasps out and his body collapses all on its own. Unable to move, he strains to look at the doll that rests on top of his limp hand. Spots dance across him as he tries to remember where it came from — and then it hits him.  _ His sister. _

He hears someone call out his name, but his consciousness fades away before he can utter a response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are as always encourages and appreciated! the following chapters will be focused on twilight and wild bc i love them, but will have other links narrating bc i love them too >:) thanks for reading!! sorry for my slow updates


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